


The Roadblock

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor John Smith is on his way to a blind date when he stumbles into a roadblock.</p><p>Just your typical fluffy meet-cute. :)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roadblock

**Author's Note:**

> Based on:  
> literally bumping into each other AU  
> tourist/knowledgeable local AU  
> meeting at a coffeeshop AU (if you squint)
> 
> BBC pretty much owns it all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!! <3  
> caedmonfaith.tumblr.com

Doctor John Noble was late. 'Late' was a bit of an understatement, if you wanted to be precise with your wording. Welllll, maybe not an understatement, really. The word ‘ _late_ ’ to describe his current state of affairs was more of a minimization, he supposed. Perhaps an under-emphasis? 

_Sod the euphemisms_ , the Doctor thought. He didn’t have time for those, either. He was _late_. 

He’d been expected at the restaurant to meet Jack’s friend...what was her name? Some lady Jack worked with that he insisted would be perfect for John. As if the Doctor were interested in meeting someone. But Jack would nag and pout and grouch if he didn’t go and it really wasn’t worth it. 

This was the fourth blind date Jack had set him up on. Reinette had been a flighty, vain disaster. Jabe was interesting, but had a wooden personality. Sarah Jane was kind, but there had been no spark between them. This new girl, though, Jack assured him, would be different. He said she was ‘sweet’. And a doctor, like him, Jack had said. 

The Doctor scoffed aloud, his hands buried in his pockets. _As if there were another doctor like him._

He was supposed to have been there twelve minutes and forty-two seconds ago, and he was still five blocks and a lift ride away. Bloody hell, how did he always end up in these kinds of predicaments? 

Well, that wasn’t so much of an _actual_ question that needed answering, _per se_ , it was more of a musing. A rhetorical pondering, really, that was all. He knew how this had happened; he’d driven to and parked in the wrong garage. Not for the first time. Or the second or third.

Oh, alright. Perhaps his sister, Donna, was right. Maybe he really _was_ a rubbish driver. He could never tell her about these instances, that would only confirm her opinion on his shoddy navigational skills. She _was_ his sister, after all, and she lived to take the mick. On second thought, she _was_ his sister. Maybe if he called her, she would manufacture an emergency to get him out of this...date.

He had absolutely no desire to do this, he thought as he trudged down the sidewalk with his eyes on the ground and his fists in his pockets. He was perfectly happy on his own. He didn’t need-

“ _Oof!_ ”

He felt the collision half a second before he felt hot liquid sopping all down his front and heard someone saying in a panicked voice, ‘ _oh shit_!’

The Doctor, who had multiple degrees in multiple subjects - including languages and linguistics - could only muster one word: “Hot!”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” his roadblock said, and suddenly he felt small, delicate hands pressing at his front insistently. He looked down and realized that his roadblock was dabbing him with a handful of napkins. _Dabbing him_.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just so sorry,” she babbled, continuing to rub the front of his body, slightly hunched over. His mind was blank, full of ‘ _ow that hurt_ ’ and ‘ _why is this stranger touching me_ ’ and ‘ _well now I’ve really blown it and I’ll never hear the end of how I’m going to be alone forever from the prettyboy_ ’.

“Are you alright, mister?” the hunched woman in front of him asked.

“Doctor,” he corrected automatically.

She stood to face him and his breath caught. _Christ, she was beautiful_. Two loosely-braided blonde pigtails lie on either shoulder, and normally the Doctor would laugh at the idea that a grown woman could wear pigtails, but this woman looked... _gorgeous_. Two light brown eyes looked up at his from a face with a wide mouth - that was currently curved downwards with a worried look.

 _Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all_. He needed her to smile. That face should _always_ smile. 

She was looking at him as if she expected him to do something, and he wasn’t sure why. So he did the logical thing and just stared back at her, his jaw slack.

The corners of her lips rose into a mischievous smile and _oh, there. That's much better_.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said your name is Doctor. Doctor who?”

“Yes!”

She laughed then, and he was quite sure that that was what music in heaven sounded like.

“Your name is Doctor Who?” Her tongue came out, peeking from between her teeth, and he was transfixed.

“If you say so.”

She laughed again, and he laughed with her at the same time he resolved to make her make that sound as much as possible for as long as he could. 

“Right, then, _Doctor Who_ , are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m just lovely. Well, maybe not lovely. Splendid? No...I’m spiffy? Oh, no, no, no, that’s a _terrible_ word. I hope I never say that again. I’m...good?”

The young lady laughed yet again, then brought her multi-colored scarf up to cover her smile. 

“My name is John Noble,” he said, proud of his own cleverness in offering her his name. 

“ _Doctor_ John Noble?” she asked with a cheeky grin.

“Quite right, too.”

She tittered a laugh, then held out her hand to him. “Hi. I’m Rose Tyler. So sorry about the coffee. Can your suit be cleaned?”

He looked down at the brown pinstripes he loved so much, a darker-brown stain all down the front. He decided he didn’t care. 

“Oh, this old thing? It’s been through much worse, I assure you.”

Her tongue came up between her teeth again, and he felt his heart stutter. 

“Do you live here?” she asked.

“Me? No. Well, I mean not _here_ -here. Well, I mean not this corner. Or this building. I live in a building, of course. I just don’t live in _this_ building.”

“I meant, are you from around here? Do you know your way around?”

“Yes!” he announced proudly, anxious to impress her. “I’m quite well-versed in the area. A fount of navigational information, as it were.” _Take that, Donna._

“Would you mind? I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.”

Would he mind? _No, he would not mind at all_. The voice in his head was salacious and he scowled at himself internally.

“I’d be happy to help you, Rose Tyler,” he announced grandly instead, proud of his restraint and his... gentlemanliness.

“You sure you want to, since I just ruined your suit?” That tongue, that blasted pink little tongue, came back out and he was sure that if it were possible, that tongue was _mocking_ him. 

The Doctor couldn’t answer. He just nodded dumbly. 

“Right, well, I’m not from here, but I was looking for good chips.”

“Chips?” he said with a rise of his brows.

“Yes. I’d like some, but I’d prefer not to waste a meal on something less than amazing.”

“Hmm, I see your point,” he said thoughtfully. _Oh, how he could relate to that._

“I tell you what, Rose Tyler, the best chippie in town is just two blocks ...that way,” he pointed, “and I’ll take you there myself, if you'd like.”

She nodded, her smile bright. “I’d like that.”

“Good. But there’s something special about this particular chippie; you have to get there a certain way.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that then?”

He reached down and took her hand, bent towards her ear and whispered, “ _Run_!”


End file.
